


My Wife Has Lain To Rest

by TheOtherMaddHatter



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Angst, Caverns Of Bodies, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Ichabod Is Sad, Ichabod Misses His Wife, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-28 00:26:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOtherMaddHatter/pseuds/TheOtherMaddHatter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichabod's wife had been accused of Witchcraft, Abbie knew, but somewhere along the way, she'd sort of forgotten.  Forgotten that she'd been tried and put to death for it, her body hidden instead of being lain to rest in the graveyard.  Not that Ichabod had forgotten, that's for sure, and in the deep, dark of the night, that memory surfaces along side another premonition.  Blooms into something that clings tight inside his chest and aches with the sadness of it all, and Ichabod can feel himself bend to it.  Abbie, however, remains strong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Wife Has Lain To Rest

**Author's Note:**

> Written on Skype with my lovely bro Mags, who promised to fly to my home and punch me in the face with every sentence I wrote for her. Good times. Good times.

Abbie finds Ichabod missing from the station couch late into the night, after hours and hours of pouring through the Sheriff’s old records. They’d drug them back there so that they were constantly watched, and Abbie figured the station was the safest place for them anyways.  Ichabod had drifted off long before her though, his lanky frame stretched out across the worn leather, and when she’d snapped awake, she’d found herself face down on the top of the files. Ichabod was gone.

Panicked, Abbie gets up and begins her search of station. There aren’t too many other officers in at this hour, just the bare bones needed for the graveyard shift, plus herself and Ichabod. But it’d been proven before that the Horsemen’s affiliates could get to them here, and just last week they’d blown up a witch in the basement tunnels. Tunnels, that as of right now, were still only partially hidden behind a flimsy wall of moveable lockers.

And then it clicked, and Abbie knew where Ichabod had gone.

She found him sitting in the middle of the catacomb-like room, every nook and cranny filled with the bones of convicted and suspected witches. Bodies of those accused of practicing witchcraft and condemned by the church. People like Ichabod’s beloved wife, Katrina.

"I don’t know which one of them is her, but I’m convinced she’s down here." He says, though he doesn’t turn to face her when she moves to sit down next to him, her shoulder to his. He looks tired, his face drawn. "Somewhere. Katrina is down here, I know it in my heart."

"Did you have another dream, Ichabod?" She asks gently, her own voice surprising her. "About her?"

His answering nod is silent, and when his head moves, she can see the faintest traces of tear tracks in the lanterns dim light. It grips her heart tight and wrenches against her chest, hammering beneath her sternum.

"We’ll find her, Ichabod. Don’t you worry, we’ll figure out just where she’s buried. You’ll see."

"I do hope you’re correct, Abbie. I hope you are."


End file.
